STARGÅTE SG-1—Sam & Janet (& Jennifer Hailey) in...
		A WORK OF BONDAGE FAN-FICTION—by Van ©2007
		Chapter 3

Sam and Janet cautiously crossed the clearing—Sam with the P90 at the ready, and Janet with a knife in each hand.  All of their clothing and gear were, indeed, gone.  Further, there was no sign of where everything had been taken, or even a hint of how this conjuring trick had been accomplished.  There were no tracks, no broken twigs or disturbed leaves, not so much as a bent grass stem that they probably hadn't caused themselves.

"What are we gonna do?" Janet whispered.

Sam stole a glance at the diminutive doctor, then returned to scanning their surroundings.  She could tell Janet wasn't frightened, but concerned.  Naked, all of their already abbreviated inventory of supplies and equipment stolen, they both had a lot to be concerned about—but Janet wasn't scared.  "Ol' Doc Fraiser", as Jack used to call her, was made of stern stuff.

"You wait here," Sam ordered, and started into the trees.

"Sam!"

"Wait here," Sam called back, and continued forward, carefully picking her way through the undergrowth.  She came to a game trail, and there were more of the small animal tracks they'd seen at the pool, but nothing looked especially recent.  The clearest track she found looked almost like a human footprint, only it was tiny, as if it had been made by a barefoot toddler.  It may have been a trick of how the soft soil compacted under the animal's foot.  In any case, there was no sign of their clothing or equipment.  It was as if it had all sprouted wings and flown away.

Tucked into the rubble at the base of the cliff was a cluster of several large boulders.  Sam could see numerous nooks and crannys that might have been cave entrances—small cave entrances—but when she cautiously inspected them, one by one, none were large enough to shelter anything bigger than a cat.

Still scanning her surroundings, including the branches overhead, Sam retreated back to the clearing.

Janet had found a heavy stick, suitable for a club, and was whittling the base to improve the handle.

Despite their circumstances, Sam couldn't help but smile.  Her friend was clutching the blade of the second knife between her teeth, evoking the air of a naked, female pirate.

"Wea?" Janet asked, continuing to whittle.

Sam suppressed her smile.  "Nothing.  No tracks and no gear."

"I ow ink ee—"  Janet dropped the club to the ground and took the knife from her mouth.  "I don't think we should stay here."

Sam nodded, continuing to scan their surroundings.  "I agree.  Let's get the shelter-half and move out."

"Wait a minute," Janet said, walked to the nearest ruined canopy, and slashed out a swath of brown material.  Most of what was left was too high for her to reach, or Sam, for that matter, but she succeeded in cutting free a second, tan remnant.   She tied the brown, suede-like rag around her waist and tossed the tan sample to Sam.  "Better than nothing," she sighed.

"Marginally."  Sam handed the P90 to Janet, and wrapped the jagged swath around her waist.  Then, with one of the knives in hand, she leaped as high as she could.  She managed to cut free more tan material, and a second jump yielded more of the brown.

"Show off!" Janet whispered, but her attention never left the tree line and the cliff.

Sam examined the hanging lines supporting the rest of the flapping material.  They were more like cables than rope, nearly as thick as her wrist, and they looked as tough as wire.  She considered trying to cut a length free, but decided it would be of limited use and not worth the delay.  "Let's go."

Janet quickly rolled the shelter-half and remaining swaths of canopy material together and tucked the bundle under one arm.  "Go where?" she asked as she retrieved her makeshift club.

"We find someplace we can defend," Sam answered, "make camp, find something to eat, and survive."

"Until?"

Sam gave her companion a grim smile.  "Until we're rescued, or find a way back to the stargate."  They entered the trees, moving with caution.  Sam chose one of the larger game trails, and they began putting distance between themselves and the clearing.

Hailey slowly drifted back to consciousness.  She was still bound and gagged, but in no pain—and she was surprised to find herself quite unafraid—even unconcerned about her predicament.  The drug, she realized.  I'm still drugged.  I'll be scared... later.

Something was shaking her cage.  She opened her eyes and watched as several of her female captors—resplendent in their camouflage bikinis, matching body paint, and leather harnesses—dragged her, cage and all, to the middle of a clearing.  One of the amazons scrambled up the side of the cage, secured a heavy shackle through a ring welded to the top, then hopped down.  The shackle was attached to a stout cable.  Hailey craned her neck and followed the cable upwards—and her eyes popped wide.

Hovering overhead was a fantastic airship.  It looked as big as a blimp, but there was no sign of a gas bag.  It was like seeing the underside of a wooden schooner—floating in the air—without masts or sails.  There was a keel, and the streamlined hull was fashioned of tightly fitted planks.  Pylons and outriggers supported what were probably engines, or lift generators, or stabilizers, or all-of-the-above.  There were also weapons emplacements, with scaled-up, crew-served versions of the "zat-rifles" used by the jungle warriors. The overall effect was a cross between an ancient Greek trireme, a Spanish galleon, and a wooden shark, floating in the darkening sky in total silence.

One of the warriors on the ground made a hand signal, the cable snapped taut, and Hailey's cage was lifted into the air.

"Farewell, Sleen-cub!" one of the warriors shouted, and the others laughed.

The encampment and the painted warriors receded below, fading almost immediately into the jungle, thanks to their camouflage.  Overhead, the airship loomed ever-larger and closer.

Her cage came even with the deck, and she found herself staring at the airship's crew—and being stared at, in turn.

Their costumes were similar to those worn by the jungle warriors, only the loincloths and bandeaus were a mottled gray, their harnesses were black leather, and they were barefoot.  Like the warriors below, all were brunette

"Look at that hair!" one of the crew members said.

"She's a tiny freak," another remarked.

"Belay the idle chat," another ordered.  She was dressed identically to the rest, only a maroon scarf was tied around her throat.  "Get the cargo stowed.  I want to get some altitude before full night."

Hailey glanced at the sky.  Both suns were close to the horizon, and one was nearly in eclipse, half hidden by the massive disk of the gas giant—then the cage was moving again.  It was maneuvered to a section of the deck railing where several large bundles were lashed in place, half-dangling over the side.  The cage was tucked against a pair of stanchions, and quickly lashed in place.  The crew climbed back onto the deck, nimble as acrobats.

I guess it makes sense, Hailey mused, still fighting the effects of the drug.  Rig the cargo like ballast and you can jettison it easily, if you have to.  She looked down, through the bottom of her cage, at the tops of the forest giants passing far below.  The airship was underway, and she thought it was rising.  It was difficult to tell.  Hailey had flown gliders at the Academy, but this mode of air travel was more stately... almost nautical in its deliberate pace.

She stretched in her rope bonds, trying to find comfort against the hard bars of her cage.  Finally, she rolled onto her side, tucked her knees against her breasts, and rested, as best she could.  Her head was still spinning.  She could see sparks and tiny flares of light, dancing across the inside of her closed eyelids... but knew they weren't real.  Is any of this real? she wondered... and drifted back to sleep.

MEANWHILE, BACK IN THE JUNGLE...

---

Sam and Janet found a suitable campsite.  It was several klicks from the waterfall and clearing where their gear had disappeared.  A trio of giant, oak-like trees atop a low hill provided cover, and there was clean water in a nearby stream.  Night was falling fast, and they'd been on the move for hours.

"We can cut some of those thorn bushes we passed and surround this place, like a kraal," Sam suggested.

"And sharpen some sticks and make one of those outward-facing palisades," Janet agreed.

"Abatis," Sam nodded.  "It's called an abatis."  She looked up at the branches overhead.  "We'll sleep up there, as high as we can get.  Tomorrow we can start building a platform, but tonight we'll have to rough it."

Janet grinned.  "Rough it—as opposed to the spectacular comfort of sleeping on a nest of sticks and branches."

Sam grinned back.  "Eventually we can make a full-blown tree house, complete with bamboo plumbing, a full kitchen, breakfast nook, etc."

"Impossible," Janet laughed.  "There's no baby elephant to power the elevator."

"We'll think of something."  Sam pointed at the lowest branch of one of the trees.  "I'll give you a boost, then you help me up, and we climb."

"Okay," Janet answered, and let Sam give her a leg up.  Sam tossed her the bundled shelter-half, then the P90—then leaped up, took Janet's hand, and swung up onto the branch.  They made their way higher, until they were at least thirty meters off the ground.

"I guess this will have to do," Sam said, indicating a point where two large branches emerged from the trunk.

"I don't see anything better," Janet sighed.  She turned and surveyed their surroundings.  Through the leaves they could see the orange-red light of the setting sun bathing the distant wall of the crater.  Almost at a visible pace, the shadow-line was marching up the sheer rocks and light was shifting to a dull red.  Overhead, the sky was fading to indigo, and the first stars were beginning to appear.

"Wait 'til full-night," Sam said, sitting down and leaning her back against the trunk.  "It's supposed to be quite a light show."

Janet settled down next to Sam.  The branches made for a cramped perch, but as long as they didn't roll around, they wouldn't fall.

"We have to do something about these... kilts," Sam muttered.  They'd managed to slide the loops of their knife sheathes through narrow folds of the tattered canopy material knotted around their waists, but the current arrangement was hardly comfortable, and did little to preserve their modesty.

"How are your feet?" Janet asked.

"Sore," Sam answered.  "Thanks for asking."

"Colonel," Janet intoned, "the expedition's Chief Medical Officer would like to know... how are your feet?"

"When you put it that way," Sam chuckled, then lifted her feet, one by one, and allowed Janet to give them a thorough examination.  "No cuts or bruises I can find," Janet conceded.  "How 'bout the rest of you?"

"I'm okay," Sam said, stifling a yawn.  "Tomorrow we'll have to see if we can make some of this canopy stuff into moccasins.  I'll take the first watch."

Janet unrolled the shelter half.  They draped it over their shoulders, then made themselves as comfortable as they could, shoulder-to-shoulder, leaning back against the hard trunk.

"So... what's the plan?" Janet asked.

"Something is out there," Sam answered.  "Something that stole our stuff.  It's crafty, near invisible, and we have to assume it's hostile."

"It may just be curious."

Sam nodded.  "It didn't attack, but we still have to assume it isn't friendly—at least for now."

"So... we survive.  Shelter, food, water—and we gather intel."

Sam nodded again.  "We figure out how to live in this place, we figure out what's going on, we find a way out of here and back to the stargate, and we rescue Hailey and the others."

"No problem," Janet chuckled, snuggling close to her friend.  "You're the one in command, and the one who's been to Survival School.  So, I'll just place my breakfast order and retire for the evening."

"Very funny," Sam laughed.  "You'll have the pleasure of the SERE experience too, before the General gives you command of your own SG team."  USAF Survival, Evasion, Resistance, and Escape training was one of Sam's least pleasant memories, but it had helped her get through some sticky off-world situations, including capture, abuse, and torture at the hands of the Goa'uld.

"I'm looking forward to it," Janet muttered, "like a double root canal.  In the meantime," she continued, in a brighter tone, "me Jane, you Tarzan."

"Very funny," Sam chuckled.  "I think it's more like I'm the Professor, and you're Mary Ann."

"Yeah, right!" Janet snorted.  "We'll find some coconuts, you can make a radio, and I'll make a cream pie."

Sam laughed, then shifted the P90 on her lap.  "Let's not talk about food 'til morning.  Breakfast will probably be grubs and worms, by the way, if we're lucky."

"Pleasant dreams to you too," Janet sighed, and settled her head against Sam's shoulder.  "Don't forget to wake me for my watch.  You need your beauty sleep too."

Sam stifled another yawn and combed her fingers through her tousled hair.  "No kidding."

Hailey opened her eyes.  Her mouth was sore from the gag.  In fact, her entire body was sore; but she had to admit that her captors knew how to tie someone up without causing permanent harm.  Her circulation was unimpaired, even though her rope bonds were tight and inescapable.  Of course, being bound and gagged for hours was no picnic, regardless.

At least the drug they'd given her seemed to have worn off.  Her head was clear for the first time since the ambush at the stargate.  She was hungry, and above all, thirsty.  None of her captors were in sight.  In fact, he couldn't even see the main deck of the airship from inside her cage. 

The ambush...  The shame of having failed her men welled in her stomach like a physical illness.  She knew she'd have to live with their deaths—if they were dead—all of her life.  She couldn't think of anything she should have or would have done differently, though.  They'd been overwhelmed, without warning, by a vastly superior force firing from prepared positions.  It wasn't the first time that had happened to an SG team.  It probably wouldn't be the last.  Her brain told her she wasn't at fault.  Her gut told her it would take time to deal with her "failure".

It was morning, but the terrain below was shrouded in mist.  Only a few jagged mountain peaks were visible, poking through the feathery veil and casting long, dark shadows.  The sky itself was a pale, robin's egg blue.  The vast arc of the gas giant loomed above the horizon, under-lit by the rising twin suns.

And what about Colonel Carter and Doc Fraiser? she wondered.   Apparently, from the chatter she'd picked up, they'd managed to escape the jungle-girl commandos.  Hailey sighed through her gag.  The Colonel would try to rescue her... somehow... if there was any possibility.  She had to stay alert, gather all the information she could, stay alive—and escape herself!

Hailey squirmed in her bonds, seeking any weakness in the tight, symmetrical web pinning her arms, but her groping fingers couldn't find any knots to untie or any strands of rope she could work loose.  Next, she rolled onto her stomach and tried to reach the rope binding her ankles, feet, and big toes.  However, with her arms folded behind her back, it was impossible.

Finally, after several minutes of wiggling, writhing effort, Hailey ceased her struggles.  Even if she had succeeded in getting out of her rope bonds, it would have been a decidedly limited victory.  She'd still be locked in a cage, dangling thousands of feet over an alien jungle, prisoner of a large force of air-amazons.

The airship was making a stately turn and starting to descend.  Hailey's side of the vessel passed into shadow.  Looking forward, through the bars of her cage, she could see what she took to be their destination, another mountain rising from the mist—and it was topped by a fantastic city!

The mountain had steep sides, like a cluster of mesas of varying height, leaning together for mutual support.  The very top was occupied by a series of spectacular domes, spires, and towers.  The lower plateaus were built up as well, but in a less extravagant style.  All levels had hanging gardens, and some of the lower levels seemed to be more garden and parkland than urban sprawl.

The final approach took several minutes, giving Hailey plenty of time to admire the city's brightly colored dressed stone, painted murals, and tiled mosaic courtyards.  When they were low enough, she could see the population moving about their business.  All were female and brunette, with the exception of a few elders with gray or silver hair.  There were also a few young girls, running about in play or clustered about solitary adults, as if for instruction.  Young and old, the mode of dress was colorful, tropical, and showed a lot of well-tanned skin.  A few faces turned up to watch the airship pass, but most seemed uninterested.  Hailey surmised the arrival of a giant, floating, wooden airship was a routine occurrence.

The airship had dropped below the top level of the city, with its domes and towers.  They were nearing what was unmistakably a docking platform.  Several women in the "air-amazon" uniform of mottled gray bikini and black leather harness were waiting beside massive bollards.  As Hailey watched, handling lines were tossed from the airship deck and were caught by the ground crew.  The lines were passed around the bollards, the crews heaved, the lines snapped taut, and heavy mooring lines began snaking from the airship towards the platform.

Before even the first of the mooring lines was secured, Hailey was distracted by airship crew swarming over her cage.  The lashings securing the cage to the stanchions were released and it was raised to the deck.  The cage door was unlocked, strong hands reached in and dragged her out, then untied her ankles, feet, and toes.

Hailey was pulled to her feet—and almost collapsed back to the deck—but her captors supported her by her bound arms.  Their manner was business-like, neither kind nor cruel.  A broad, stiff, leather collar was buckled around her throat.  It had long ropes clipped to steel rings, one in the front and one in the back.

By this time, Hailey's legs could carry her weight.  A pair of air-amazons used the collar ropes to lead her towards the airship's telescoping gangway.  Naked, bound, gagged and helpless, head and shoulders shorter than all of her captors, she strode forward, chin up and proud.

Waiting on the platform was the airship's captain, the air-amazon with the maroon neck scarf.  Also present was one of the jungle warriors, still in her camouflaged bikini, brown leather harness, and boots, but without her body paint. Her bronze "zat-rifle" was slung across her back.

A large party was approaching the airship, emerging from a stone archway on the far side of the platform.

The central figure was a very attractive woman, in her early thirties.  She was wearing an abbreviated top, little more than a bra; a loincloth with long, fluttering panels in front and back; and a long, sleeveless robe.  All were of black silk, and the robe was sheer as gossamer.  Her feet were bare.  Robe, loincloth, and her long, richly curled hair flowed in her wake, like banners of authority.

Immediately behind her were two women.  One was shorter, and similarly clad in black.  The other was dressed in natural, un-dyed linen.

Bringing up the rear were several guards, marching in ranks of two.  Their costumes were similar to the jungle warrior's, but the cloth elements were shining black silk, and their black leather harnesses and boots were highly polished.  They carried zat-rifles, at port-arms.

A trumpet sounded on the airship and the crew paused in their tasks to snap to attention.  At the same time, the airship captain and the jungle warrior bowed at the waist and Hailey's handlers went down on one knee.

"All hail Zanta, PardaUbar of Pan-PelluciGor!" a voice shouted from somewhere on the airship.

"HAIL!" the entire crew shouted, as one.  The trumpet sounded again, and they returned to their work.

Hailey had remained standing, glaring above her gag at what she surmised was some sort of high official, possibly even the planet's ruler.  Had circumstances been different, she would have mimicked her captor's actions, as a show of respect—but, at the moment, she wasn't in a particularly respectful mood.

"So," the PardaUbar said, a superior smile curling her lips, "this is the tiny alien fighter who leads men against PelluciGor in war."

Hailey continued to stare.  The PardaUbar was very beautiful, and her tan, toned body was athletic, feminine perfection personified.  Hailey hated her already.

"She's small as a girl," the PardaUbar continued, her eyes drinking in every detail of Hailey's nude, diminutive body, "but she's obviously a woman... and a fit, woman-warrior, at that.  Pale pink skin, yellow hair... like nothing I've ever seen."  She glanced over her shoulder at the tall woman in white.  "What did you say was her ridiculous name?"

The woman pulled a rod from her robe.  It split in her hands and a sheet of foil unrolled, stretched between the two halves.  "We believe it is 'Cur-nell Car-tur', based on the words of the men of her world of origin, but one of those appellations may be a title or rank.  Until we complete our interrogation—"

"Yes, yes," the PardaUbar interrupted.  "Charis, your thoughts."

The shorter woman in black stepped forward.  Hailey could now see a shining steel collar with a pendant ring around the woman's throat.  She was as beautiful as the PardaUbar, in her own way, but was younger.  She walked a slow circle around Hailey and her handlers.  "Small breasts, but well shaped," she purred.  "I suspect she will clean up quite nicely.  A strong spirit.  She'll fight.  At the very least, a pleasant curiosity.  At most, an exotic treasure."

The PardaUbar continued her leering inspection, and Hailey continued her defiant, glaring response.  "Hmm... We shall see."  Her brown eyes shifted to the jungle warrior.  "Kyna, I want you to concentrate on capturing the two intruders who escaped."

Hailey was careful to shield her reaction to the PardaUbar's words, but this was very good news, indeed!  Sam and Janet had escaped capture!

The PardaUbar turned her attention, again, to the woman in linen.  "Honna, the Wise Council shall assist in the search in every way.  Pass all relevant information to Kyna's staff as you interrogate my new plaything."

Hailey bristled at the word "plaything", but wasn't in a position to do more than scowl.

"Charis shall assist you in the questioning," the PardaUbar continued, then smiled at Hailey in an especially disturbing manner.  "Let her evaluation and training begin immediately."  In a swirl of black silk and brown curls, she spun on her heel and departed the way she had come.  Her black-clad guards opened ranks to let her pass, then executed a smart about-turn and peeled away, pair-by-pair, to march in her wake.

The remaining women bowed, respectfully, then turned to talk.

"I'm off to Lone Peak," the airship captain announced, "with supplies for the garrison."  She offered her hand to Kyna, who gripped it with a firm shake.

"Fair skies and following winds," Kyna said.  "Thank you for the hospitality of your wardroom.  The Air Armada may expect deployment orders very soon..."  She turned to Honna.  "...I hope."

"Half of the arch-transport system is still down," Honna said, shifting the folds of her robe as she spoke, "but analysis of the damage should allow us to narrow your search."

The Captain nodded to each in turn.  "Polymath."  Honna nodded in return.  "Slave."  Charis went down on one knee, then gracefully stood.

Slave? Hailey wondered.

The Captain released Kyna's hand, and bowed.  "War-captain."

"Captain," Kyna nodded, and waved as the Captain turned and strode towards her ship.  Hailey's handlers dropped her rope leads and followed.

"I'll be in the War Tower," Kyna announced, and strode away, following in the PardaUbar's wake.

"So, I'm to have two guests," Honna said.

"My first visit to the High Polymath's domain," Charis laughed, and the pair embraced and exchanged a polite kiss, mouth-to-mouth.

Hailey looked from Honna, the "Polymath", to Charis, the "slave".  From her training, she surmised the "PelluciGorean" culture was hierarchical and stratified, but she knew she still had a lot to learn about her captors.  She also realized that no one was holding her leads, and her legs were completely free; but the idea of "escape"—while bound, gagged, naked, and dragging two long lengths of rope from her collar—was ludicrous, at best.

"Duty awaits," Honna said, and the pair separated.

"One moment," Charis said, then did something Hailey considered very strange.  The grinning slave opened her robe, and removed her long, black, silk loincloth.

Hailey's eyes popped wide above her gag.  What she had taken for a metal waistband was actually part of what was unmistakably a chastity belt!  The portion covering Charis' sex was sculpted to mimic and embrace the folds of her genitalia, and was set with tiny jewels, arranged along the shield's labial folds, to suggest glistening beads of moisture.

Hailey's amazed appreciation of Charis' belt was cut short when the slave stepped behind her and dropped the loincloth over her head!  It covered her face, gag-harness and all.  The black silk was pulled taut, then two narrow folds were stretched, one from either side, to press against her upper face from the bridge of her nose to her forehead.  The single layer over her gagged mouth and nostrils did little to restrict her breathing, but the multiple layers over her eyes were a highly effective blindfold.

Hailey mewled through her gag.  Her captors had retrieved the ropes dangling from her collar and were leading her away—but there was a distraction.  A strong, exotic perfume was making her head swim.  She realized it was from the loincloth swaddling her head, and whatever it was... it was making her sex tingle with every step!  Despite her circumstances, her helplessness, her concern for her friends, and her anxiety about her own unknown fate—Hailey realized she was becoming... aroused!